The Seeker of Babylon
by Lina Cross
Summary: Ancient Babylon is under attack from a strange enemy, and their only hope to survive is the god-like man who saved them once before. One girl is sent to find him, but when she does, a problem arises: Her only savior doesn't remember he's the Doctor.
1. When the Ground Shook

The ground shook with rapid tremors, the rust-colored walls of the caves making disconcerting crunching noises as they trembled. Two people moved swiftly through the tunnels, one a woman and the other an old man. The woman was a creature of magnificent grace and beauty; her sleek dark hair fell to the small of her back and was held with a net of gemstones, and her eyes were lined with black kohl. A fine wrap dress clothed her body and fluttered about her as she hurried along the passage. The man had grey hair and beard, his chest mostly bare. He wore a robe of many colors with a golden belt at his waist. He led the woman with even greater speed, belying his age, and his ancient eyes were full of worry.

"Akiva, I don't understand. Do you know what these creatures are?" asked the woman, panting slightly as she kept apace with the man.

"I am the king's head scholar, Naftali. I spend my present in the past, and I can tell you with certainty that this enemy is not new to these lands," said the man, speaking rapidly.

Naftali paused, staring at him in disbelief. "These monsters have been here before?"

"And they should have learned their lesson," he said gravely. He took her hand in his, gently but firmly. "_Come_, girl, there is no time to waste."

"Akiva, you're hardly making any sense. What are they and why have they come back?"

"I know not their names, for he never told those who were present. He came in his moving palace and banished them from this place. They should have learned!"

"But who is _he_?"

Akiva finally stopped in the deepest cave, one whose walls were coated in the rough images of events long past. He raised a gnarled finger, pointing to a picture of a blue rectangle with a bright light at the top. Beside the box stood a man. He was tall, but thin as a twig, and with short hair that stood on end. "The Doctor."

Naftali failed to see the significance. What good was a skinny man with a box? "It's hardly a palace," she protested doubtfully.

"Those who were there told of how his palace was massive on the inside, but small to the passing viewer. It makes his house easier to transport, you see?" He turned to the girl as another tremor shook the earth, grabbing her hands. "Naftali, we cannot wait for him to come to us this time. We must send someone to find him, and I've chosen you."

"How in Marduk's name am I supposed to find a skinny man with a moving palace?" she demanded.

"He left us with a gift, a medallion." Akiva knelt to the floor and withdrew a bronze dagger from his belt. The point was driven into the dirt, and he used it to dig a sizable chunk out of the ground. Beneath, he unearthed a necklace like nothing Naftali had ever seen. It was a long chain and on it hung a large blue stone set in a ring made some sort of speckled metal. Akiva put it around her neck with reverence, as though this was a holy relic. "Press the stone, and it will take you to him."

"Is this man a god?"

"It would behoove us to treat him so. Last his wrath was witnessed here, the monsters who now ravage our city turned tail and fled."

"But why me?" she asked, holding the pendant gingerly.

His eyes became gentle and he rested a hand on her shoulder. "You are smart, Naftali, smarter than many other women. There is no telling where you might find our savior, and of anyone, I know you will withstand whatever may come." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Good luck, child."

Her heart was racing. She had never been far from home, and now there was no certainty as to where she would end up. This was all happening so quickly.

Another rumble shook the ground and she knew time was running out. With an unwilling goodbye to the ancient scholar, she stopped thinking about her fear and squeezed the pendant


	2. The One Who Forgot

Naftali stumbled and her back came in contact with something rough and hard. Her ears still rang with the roaring sound that echoed all around during her trip. She opened her eyes, breathing heavily, and saw something that made her head spin. There was a large container before her, overflowing with dirty detritus and insects. The wall at her back was made of reddish stones, all cut exactly the same. She'd never seen anything like it.

"Oi! Oi, you!"

She turned at the voice and her breath caught in her chest. He was human, obviously, but not like any human she'd ever seen. He was fat, mostly bald, and wearing a threadbare robe loosely wrapped about his body.

"Do you address me?" she asked, stepping hesitantly forward.

"Yeah, I'm addressin' you. Listen, I'm gettin' right tired of weird people like you runnin' through here. Every other week it seems like there's another bloke in a costume crashin' into the alley. And that's not to mention the ruckus that skinny git makes with his big box."

"A man with a box?" She took another step forward, hope lifting her heart.

"Have you seen him? The tall man with the box?"

"Not for a few weeks now. He a friend of yours? Wouldn't be surprised."

"Yes, a friend of sorts. Do you know where he is now?"

"Haven't the foggiest. If you do find him, tell him to start using someone else's alley!" The man slammed the door, leaving Naftali to stand in bewilderment in the strange new world.

It took all of her courage to venture outward to see the rest of her new surroundings. It couldn't have been more different from home. Instead of dirt, the ground was made of something harder and colorless. The buildings were square and climbed to amazing heights that were dizzying just to look at. The lanterns and signs were so much brighter than she'd ever thought possible.

"Incredible," she murmured, staring around.

So consumed with the new sights, she didn't see another man moving toward her until he bumped into her side.

"Terribly sorry," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Good God, look at you. Part of the theater, eh? That's quite the costume."

She didn't respond, staring in astonishment at the stranger. "Doctor!" she finally gasped.

He looked at her quizzically. "Pardon?"

She couldn't believe she'd found him. This was, without a doubt, the man she was looking for. Her was a full head taller than her, dressed in brown clothes and with hair that stood on end. "I need you! My people need you! Please, show me the way to your palace and let us go!"

Now he looked even more confused. "Sorry, the name's Smith. But, if you need a doctor, I can take you to the nearest clinic."

"What? No, _you_, Doctor. You're the one I was sent to find."

"I'm sorry, I don't..." He looked down, his brow furrowing. "Where did you get that necklace?"

She had almost forgotten the pendant. "It was given to me by a dear friend. It is a relic, given to my people by yourself."

He shook his head. "It looks familiar, but not _that_ familiar. Where did you say you were from again?"

"Babylon."

His eyes showed he didn't believe her, but he didn't admit that. "Right. Well, it's freezing out here and I'm going to guess you're not actually with the theater. I'll take you home for a while until you can get your head back in order."

"How can you not understand?" She held fast as he tried to pull her with him, and he froze. "There isn't time! My land is under attack and we need you!"

"Alright, I'm not sure what's happened to you, and I'm willing to help, but I'm not a doctor. I'm just John Smith."

Perhaps she was mistaken. Maybe in this world there were many men who looked like this. At any rate, it _was_ cold out, too cold for her cloth dress, so she might as well accept his offer to find a warm place to think. With a sinking feeling, she nodded. "Alright. I welcome your hospitality."

He seemed to relax at this and nodded. "Good, good. Well, come on, then, my flat is just round the corner here." They set off, down the paths made of stone and past the tall, tall buildings.

. . .

Several hours later, John Smith returned to his flat to see the strange girl sitting by the window, staring at the streets below. She'd been there when he left an hour and a half before, and seemed to have not moved.

"Do you want anything to eat?" he asked, putting his bags of shopping on the table. "I've just been to the grocer's, what do you want?"

"I'm not very hungry," she murmured.

He frowned. She was an extremely odd creature, perhaps mentally unstable. She was rather beautiful and exotic-looking, and actually did _look_ like she could be from Babylon. He was absolutely bewildered as to what to do with her. "I-I'm sorry, could I get your name again? It's a bit hard to remember."

"Naftali," she said, turning to look at him. "And you say you're John Smith?"

He nodded. "That's right. Oh, look, I got some clothes for you while I was out.

You'd be quite a sight, walking around dressed like that."

"It's _supposed_ to be a sight. My clothes distinguish me from the lesser townspeople."

"Right. Well, that's not exactly the _style_ now, you understand. These are better." It was easier to play along than to outright act like she was loony.

With a sigh, she rose gracefully from her chair and took the plastic bag from him, then made a face at its contents. "These are men's clothes."

A smile tugged at his mouth. "You won't see a lot of men wearing those. If you don't want them, I won't make you wear them."

"I will take them," she said. "I believe I am stuck here until I find the Doctor, so it would be best to blend in."

He was frowning again. "I don't understand what that means."

"This pendant I'm wearing brought me here. It was supposed to lead me to the Doctor that will save us, but I've found out it only works once."

"So you're stuck here, then?"

She cast her dark eyes over him. "I think that's up to you and your memories."

He opened his mouth to dismiss her assumption, but she cut him off. "Tell me, John Smith, do you know anything about a blue box that's bigger on the inside?"

His mouth closed with a snap. She couldn't possibly know. "Maybe you should change," he said evasively.

She knew he was hiding something, but decided not to press him further. In time, he would reveal what he knew.

He had to be under some sort of spell. In Babylon, magic was the first suspect for unexplainable problems. If a man like a god could forget who he was, something powerful had to be behind it.

Naftali had minor issues while dressing, finding the more fitted garments to be a drastic change from her flowing dress. There were tough, blue pants, a shirt with no sleeves, and a black jacket of leather, but it was like no leather she had ever used. Once dressed, she observed herself in the mirror of the washroom. She looked... strange. She still wore her jewelry, but without the elegence of her dress, they looked almost out of place. She left them on, anyway. No point in forfeiting more symbols of her dignity.

John Smith greeted her as she came out, nodding at her appearance. "That's good. It fits you."

"I hardly think so," she sniffed, sitting at the kitchen table. "Well, if you _aren't_ the Doctor, do you know where I might find him?"

"Naftali - could I call you Tali?" She nodded. "Tali, I don't even know who this doctor is, much less where you'll find him."

Her heart felt heavy at his denial. "He is a great man. A god, I've been told. Monsters came to my land once before, and he defeated them all on his own. They have returned, and now he is our only hope of saving Babylon."

John Smith seated himself across from her and puffed his cheeks out. "Wouldn't be the Romans, would it?"

"If that is their name. I know not what they're called, only that they are not men. They are... nightmares."

"Ehhhh so, could still be Romans," he said thoughtfully.

"Regardless of their name, they are destroying my city. I was given the responsibility of seeking help, and I cannot return until I've found it."

"And what makes you so sure _I'm_ this Doctor?"

"We have drawings of history in our caves. There is the image of a man, tall and thin with hair that stands on end."

He made a face. "It doesn't _stand on end_. It's got _style_."

"He stands next to a blue box which is said to be his moving palace." At this, John Smith became uncomfortable, shifting in his chair and refusing to look at her. "You know the blue box," she said. "I can see you know of what I speak."

"It... it's just a dream," he said firmly. "That's all. I see a blue police box in my dreams, but it's just from watching too many old movies. Police boxes aren't even in use anymore."

"Have you stopped being the Doctor because your palace fell out of style?"  
He gave her a look. "I'm sorry, Tali, but I'm not the one you're looking for. In my world, we don't have people just popping up from other periods of time."

"Nor do we, but once, and that turned out to be one of the most important events to my people. John Smith, I guarentee, you are the Doctor, and I will help you find your memory."

"Yes, but I don't believe you!" he said with equal severity. "If you really are from Babylon, which I don't believe because time travel is impossible, why are you speaking perfect English?"

It was her turn to look baffled. "English? I thought we were speaking Babylonian."

They stared at each other across the table, then John Smith's eyes were drawn down to her pendant once again. "What is that?"

"It's what brought me to you. A gift _from you_."

"I know, but the color, it... I've never seen a stone of that color before."

"Nor have I. We have no metal like this, either."

"Oh, that's not weird at all, I see that sort of metal all the time in-" He paused,his brow furrowing. "I swear, I've seen that metal, I just can't think where."

"Could it be in your palace?"

"I don't have a palace," he stated, getting to his feet. She noticed that he moved around a lot more than the average person. "Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?"

She remained silent, moving again to the window seat to look moodily outside. John Smith frowned at her, but said nothing more. He was beginning to dislike her presence.


	3. Disastrous Affairs

The evening had gone little better than the afternoon. Naftali was still spouting off odd things about Babylon and trying to convince him that he was some hero, and John Smith was still disinclined to believe her. He'd finally put her in the guest room for bed and promised to help her sort things out in the morning. Poor girl might have been wandering the cold for days and gone senile.

This theory was strengthened further when he awoke the next day to find her missing.

For a moment, he felt himself panic. He might not have been overly fond of the girl, but he did feel responsible for taking care of her. She was a lost soul who had wandered into his arms, and it would be wrong of him to let her go alone and get herself killed. Babylonians didn't have cars, so he assumed she'd have no idea what to do when confronted with one.

He could only imagine Naftali on the streets of London, wondering about with zero direction. At least she was decently dressed now, but it was a small blessing. Not even pausing to make himself breakfast, he put on his clothes and dashed outside. There, with a sinking feeling, he saw a large street festival taking place.

Naftali, for her part, had risen early and slipped out of the flat. She was grateful for what help John Smith had offered, but she needed the Doctor's help. She hadn't slept well, dreaming of Akiva and her beloved friends and family in Babylon, which could even now be burning. There was no time to waste, no room for her to dawdle. If she found the Doctor's palace, maybe he would remember who he was.

She saw a large crowd milling about in the streets, so she immersed herself in it. A palace bigger on the inside than on the outside was meant to be hidden, and if she was going to hide something like that, it would be where no one would notice. Festivals in Babylon had all sorts of structures set up, which seemed to be a commonality with the modern age. A large blue box wouldn't look out of place here.

People pressed in around her, calling things out to one another and being as loud as they could. Scents of food wafted through the air and bright colors assaulted her from every booth. It might even prove _difficult_ to find a large blue box in this mess.

John Smith pushed past the people filling the streets, straining to find Naftali. He called her name, but no one acknowledged it except for a few curious stares.  
He had to find her. It was his duty. Any normal person might have turned right around and gone home. She was an adult, a strong one at that, and could probably fend for herself. But there was something in him that refused to accept that. Something about her was important to him, though he couldn't place what, and he was tired of that feeling. For weeks, it seemed, he'd felt incomplete, like something was missing. He'd have the strangest dreams about a blue box and space and pretty girls. There was always a thought niggling at the back of his mind that he should be doing _something_, something that wasn't teaching history to a lot of sleepy high school students. Naftali only made him feel all the more frustrated, which probably meant he was doing something right.

As Naftali scoured the fair, she began to feel a prickly feeling at the back of her neck. She paused near a stand of oil-fried cakes and gathered herself. Who could possibly be watching her here? No one could know her. But then, as she looked over the heads of the pedestrians, she saw dark eyes looking directly at her. Three people, two men and a woman, were watching her every move.  
Maybe she should have stayed in John Smith's house.

Determined to locate the blue box before any harm could come to her, Naftali forged through a particularly dense group of people. She was bundled about, pushed here and there by the crowd, and for a moment she thought she might get trampled. Then she broke free, stumbling into a clear space.

Her heart leaped into her throat and she wanted to cry from happiness. Just behind a large wheel that carried people up and over, there stood an unassuming, blue wooden box. It was so shocking to behold because it was so important, and yet looked so simple and unimportant. She had finally found it.

A quick look back told her there had been another new development in her situation. One of the men was headed straight for her, but the woman and the other man were making their way to a different target: John Smith. If he was here, she could show him the box and he might be able to get them out of this mess. She just needed to make sure this blue box was _the_ blue box.

John Smith had finally caught sight of her, finally breathed a sigh of relief, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir, can I help you?" said a woman in her mid-forties.

"No, no, I've found her, it's alright, if you'll excuse me-"

The hand tightened its hold. "I'm sorry, I really think that's not your problem."

Alarm bells were going off in his head. He looked again at the woman and noted that she was definitely not a fair employee. Not dressed in that suit. She was also accompanied by a tall, grim-faced man who didn't look like the type who liked to argue. "Who are you?" John Smith asked warily, his heart speeding up again.

"People who have your best interests at heart, I promise," the woman replied with a cool smile.

"Right now my _best interests_ involve that girl over there. She needs my help," he said firmly.

"I assure you, Mr. Smith, she will be taken care of."

He shrank back. "How do you know my name? Who are you?"

"Please, remain calm."

Naftali was racing toward the box, feeling her heart about to burst from anxiety. She was so close, then a hand gripped her arm. "Let go of me!" she snapped.

"Please, don't struggle," said the man, his hold tightening as she tried to jerk out of his grip.

"_Please_, I need to get in there!" she cried, straining against his hand. "Let me go, my people need this!"

"It would be better for everyone if you didn't," he said lowly.

"Unhand me!" She stomped as hard as she could on his foot and elbowed him in the stomach. He let go, doubling over, and she sprinted toward the box. Her fingers closed around the handle and she threw the door open.

It was just a box.


End file.
